Peace, Love and Understanding
by ToothFairy
Summary: A few weeks after Day 4, Tony is grateful to be where he is...


_Hey everyone… I have some explaining to do about this piece, so here it goes: LOTR-nutcase wanted me to write a Tony POV for my other story 'Capitulation'. Well, I tried that, but I couldn't seem to make it work (everything came out too heavy)… and so I ended up writing this instead. The timeframe is different and so is the style, but it's still a Tony POV and it's still fairly fluffy (I think, lol)… so LOTR-nutcase, I hope this'll sooth your request…and if not, my profound apologies… :)_

He has his arms around her, and she leans back against him as they make themselves more comfortable. Her hair is half loose and half held back with a barrette, as it often is when she doesn't have to work- dark curls tumbling haphazardly onto her shoulders and down her back, tickling his chin and making him smile.

The park is deserted. When they arrived a few hours ago, it had been filled with children's laughter and play, and parents' fretful warnings for them to be careful. Two little beings had come flying towards them as the father held back, giving his kids time to greet their aunt and especially their much-missed uncle, who they hadn't seen in over a year.

But now it's getting darker and colder, and it's only the two of them left, sitting on a bench in comfortable silence, looking up at the stars.

It's been almost three weeks, but sometimes it still doesn't feel real to have her back in his arms, especially since he'd spent the months before convincing himself that she hated him and that she would never want anything to do with him ever again. Sometimes he's still afraid to open his eyes in the morning, afraid that when he does he might discover that all the wonderful things that have happened in the past few weeks were nothing but the blissful dream he had so desperately ached for during the nightmare that came before.

But it's the curls that brush lightly against his chin that bring him back to present, proving to him that she's back, that she's his again… and he knows he won't ever let go now. He knows that's a mistake he won't make twice.

As the wind picks up he unconsciously pulls her even closer than she already is, asking softly, "You cold?"

She smiles and turns her head a little at the sound of his voice. "No."

For a moment he suspects her of lying to him so he wouldn't insist on going home where it's nice and warm, but then he realizes that if she really was cold, he would be able to tell by the subtle shivers in her body. So he lets it go, but he can't resist rubbing her arms a little- just in case.

He knows her so incredibly well; sometimes he can anticipate what she's going to say or do even before she can. It's a game they used to play- testing how well they can predict each other's actions- and she's playfully taunted him with it more than once since that day that he finally pulled himself back together.

And yet, he loves the fact that, as well as he knows her, she never fails to surprise him when it comes to some things. How it's possible that someone who spent hours and hours in a hotel surrounded by hundreds of people dying in agony, fearing for her own life in the process, without shedding a single tear, can't seem to make it through 'ET' without always crying a little at the end, is something he'll never understand. All he knows is that it only makes him love her even more.

"So what do you wanna do tomorrow?" she asks, snapping him out of his reverie.

He doesn't immediately respond, being a little caught off-guard by the question. He isn't used to being asked that question anymore, and is always startled when she does. But he recovers quickly.

"Mmm, let's see… First, I'm gonna cook you breakfast…"

Her smile turns into a light laugh, which is enough to make him chuckle.

"You do that every morning, silly," she informs him.

She's giving him the opportunity to bring up their old in-joke again, and he doesn't hesitate, trying not to dwell on the fact that he had never thought he'd get that chance again. "Yeah, well. We can't have you burning down your own kitchen, can we?" he mumbles into her hair.

She hits him lightly on the arm and he laughs. It feels so good to be able to laugh again.

They succumb once more to comfortable silence. He gently presses his lips to the side of her head, valuing every moment he spends with her. Life is much too short and no one knows that better than him. If it's one thing he's learned over the years it's to be grateful for what you have when you have it. Because as much as he hates to think that way, he knows he can never fully protect her from all the things that could possibly happen when he turns his back.

Not that he doesn't try. God knows, he tries- sometimes probably too much. He's always been protective, but now he knows it's bordering slightly on unhealthy. He knows he has to be careful not to crowd her with it; she's always insisted she can take care of herself- which he knows despite himself that she can. He just doesn't want to risk it.

She's too good for this world, and that's mostly what scares him. She always thinks of other people before she thinks of herself, always does everything in her power to help others despite what it might do to herself; and he wishes she would just be selfish and put her own wellbeing first, always. Just like he puts her wellbeing first, always.

"So what else do you wanna do, except of course make me breakfast?" she wants to know, determined to wear the subject out.

His heart clenches a little at what he has been secretly afraid of ever since she had agreed to leave CTU with him, and now he decides he has to know the truth so he can deal with it.

"Are you bored?"

She pauses a minute before answering, and he can tell she understands the undertones.

_Are you getting restless? Do you need the thrill of CTU in order to be happy? Did I force you into something you aren't ready for?_

But she turns around to look him straight in the eye and says, equally quietly but with a certain resolution, "No."

He holds her gaze for a moment, searching her features for confirmation of what she had just said, and she smiles, knowing that that is all the reassurance he could ever need.

Accepting her answer, he pulls her back to him and they resume their original position.

Now, he can't imagine that there was ever a time when he'd been afraid of trusting her, a time when Nina Myers had had him so screwed up that he managed to be wary of someone like Michelle, whose goodness and honesty shines about her with everything that she does.

This distrust hadn't lasted very long though, not once they had gotten together. He knows now that if she had asked him only a few weeks after the day of the bomb to follow her to the edge of the world, he probably would have done it- blindfolded- without being too worried.

He smiles inwardly as he vividly remembers a very intense moment of simultaneous panic, joy and bewilderment early on in their relationship. He had woken up in the middle of the night, saw her asleep next to him- beautiful, delicate, angelic- and his chest tightened. In a flash he thought, _My God, we've only been seeing each other a month and my world already revolves around her._

And now, here they are, six years later, and his world still revolves around her. It always had- even when he was drunk and angry and shouting at her. Even when she packed her bags and left, unknowingly taking his heart with her. Even when he moved in with another woman barely a month after the divorce, in a false hope that he was leaving behind everything that he associated with his old life, including her.

He had always, always loved her- it had frustrated the hell out of him sometimes, but he had.

When he looks at it objectively, he doesn't really understand how one person can make such a difference in his happiness. No matter what, he has his parents, his brothers and their families. And despite the fact that first his job and then his drinking had made it difficult to make very many friends over the years, he knows there are a few (mainly from college) that will always come through for him.

But when she's gone, so is his will to live. He can't handle the world if he doesn't have her smile to brighten it.

"Tell you what," he says, wanting to see that smile that is equally captivating as it is contagious, "Tomorrow we'll drive down to Santa Barbara for the day. How 'bout that?"

And there it is- that brilliant smile of hers- as she turns to look at him again, her dark eyes sparkling with delight. "Can I go shoe shopping?"

He groans at her obsession that had always driven him crazy (it was both time-consuming and expensive) though they both know he had seen it coming. "Michelle, you have like three hundred pairs- how many more do you need?"

She shakes her head in mock annoyance as she leans back against him, grumbling something about, "You men will never understand…"

He sighs, pretending to be exasperated, and says with exaggerated patience, "Of _course_ you can go shoe shopping, sweetheart."

Who's he kidding here anyway? He knows he's at a point in his life where if she asked him if she could paint the walls of their new house bright pink with purple polka-dots, he would probably still say yes. Probably.

"Will you come with me?" she asks, looking at him pleadingly- just testing to see how much she can get away with.

He groans, and she giggles and kisses him on the cheek. "Just kidding."

And this time, _he_ understands _her_ undertones.

_I don't have to go shoe shopping. I can go shoe shopping any day. I just want to be with you tomorrow._

They settle into each other again, just enjoying each other's company and (a little guiltily) thanking God for that one day that had been a horrendous disaster for most everyone else.

He'd missed so many small, subtle things about her, things he had barely even noticed while they had been married. The smell of her perfume when he entered the bathroom. The hand she always rested lightly on this thigh when he drove. The little notepads with her familiar handwriting that she left around when she wasn't home, reminding him to water the plants and call his mother.

He appreciates every one of those things now. He appreciates just how precious she is. He knows that as long as he lives, he'll never come across anyone quite like her. He could never love anyone else that way, if only for the simple reason that no one else managed rescue him the way she did. Twice.

Because, for the second time, she has pulled him out of a daze that had numbed him so much that he hadn't even fully realized how much pain he was in. Just like when they had first started dating, she has gently coaxed him into laughter, into warmth, into happiness. And, despite the fact that they have a past that makes it so much more complicated than it should have been, he surrendered to charm so much easier than the first time. Because this time, he wasn't afraid of trusting her at all.

Suddenly he is aware of a slight tenseness in her body that wasn't there before, and a moment later she is pulling back a little to look at his face.

"What's the matter?" he asks her.

"I…" she smiles hesitantly, "I want to show you something."

He loosens his grip on her reluctantly, his curiosity not quite dominating his desire to stay wrapped up in the embrace. "Alright."

But to his surprise, she doesn't get up and lead him to whatever it is she wants to show him. Instead, she digs her fingers into the pocket of her jeans, revealing a shiny object that he can't make out until she holds her hand still.

His breath catches and he looks at her in disbelief. She is holding the white gold bracelet he had given her on their one-year anniversary, and hooked onto it are their wedding rings.

Even in the blur and chaos of his own misery, he very clearly remembers slipping his ring into the envelope that contained the signed divorce papers that they agreed his lawyer would get to her. After all, even in his drunken state of mind it had seemed only logical that his wedding ring stayed where is heart was, and he knew that would always be with her.

But even though this is what he told himself, he had never in his wildest dreams truly believed she would actually keep it. She would probably throw it out as soon as she found it, and the worst part was, if she did he knew he could hardly blame her.

And now there it is, not only very safely in her possession, but also tied together with her own wedding ring, both hanging onto that bracelet that he vigorously recalls making her eyes light up when he presented her with it.

Seeing his disbelief, her smile turns from hesitant to tentative, and she says softly, "I don't know why I kept it. I guess… I couldn't even _look_ at it, but I still needed to know it was there…"

He doesn't know what to say, so he just stares from her to the rings still dangling from her hand and back to her again.

Her eyes never leaving his face, she turns his palm upwards, opens the clasp of the bracelet and lets the rings slide into his hand. And all of a sudden, he knows what she wants him to do, and he is only too happy to comply. Wordlessly, he reaches for her left hand and very slowly slips the ring on her finger, making sure she can still stop him if she suddenly feels that things are going too fast.

But her eyes remain open and smile never wavers, and before he knows it, she is slipping his own ring onto his hand.

"We're not married," she whispers hoarsely, as she helps him clasp the bracelet around her wrist.

She shrugs, touching his cheek for a moment and whispers back, "Sure we are. Maybe not legally, but… we're definitely married."

He's smiling too now, having somehow forgotten how wonderful the ring felt on his finger. "But I still want to marry you legally again. Someday."

Her eyes are brimming with tears now and he struggles to keep his own emotions under control, though he knows he can't fool her.

"Me too," she tells him, "But we have all the time in the world for that."

The corners of his mouth turn upwards. For once, they actually have the time to get things right, take a breath and enjoy life.

"Yeah," he agrees, "No rush."

They smile at each other and he can't help it any longer- he reaches out and pulls her in for a slow, tender kiss. When they break apart, he eases her head onto his chest and they sit there like this for another minute or two before he says, "So I guess now we're uh… what?- legally divorced, officially engaged and emotionally married. That sound about right?"

She giggles. It was so like them- a far cry from the average American couple, but too much love for either of them to ever want things differently.

"Yep," she replies, snuggling further into his warmth, "Something like that."


End file.
